


Muggle Traditions

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: April Fools' Day, F/M, St. Patrick's Day, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: George Weasley has wanted his sister-in-law for years now. He tries various ways to convince her that he is not as bad as she has heard.





	1. Green beer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [hphet](http://hphet.livejournal.com)'s monthly challenges. The titles of the chapters are what the challenges were.

“It’s a Muggle tradition, I swear!”

“You know April Fool’s Day isn’t for another few weeks, right?”

George grinned as he leant forward on the bar, arms folded in front of him. “I have the word of _Harry Potter_ himself. Green beer is a Muggle tradition on St. Patrick’s Day.”

“I know _Harry Potter_ personally as well, George. You cannot fool me with this just by mentioning his name.”

Leaning back in her seat at the bar, Gabrielle Delacour shook her long, blonde hair back away from her face. George attempted to take a deep breath as her scent washed over him, but it seemed to fail. Over the years of their acquaintance, he had come to realise that he was almost permanently short of breath around Gabrielle. Whether that was due to her Veela powers – which she seemed to be able to turn on and off, just like her sister – or simply because George found her stunning all on her own, he did not know. Licking his lips, he attempted a charming smile.

“Tell you what,” he began, reaching over to grasp the handle of the glass of green-coloured beer he had poured her. “I’ll trade you.”

George’s heart hammered against his ribcage as Gabrielle let out a light, lilting laugh. She shook her head, causing that maddening scent to send his head spinning again. He didn’t move when she leant forward on the bar, bringing their faces close together.

“You believe you have something I want?”

His tongue flicking out to wet dry lips, George grinned. “I’ll trade you a kiss for a drink.”

Her expression did not change. “You want to kiss me?”

George’s head tilted to the side and he raised an eyebrow. “ _I_ want you to try this green beer. I’m doing _you_ a favour by offering to kiss you in exchange, since you clearly don’t have the guts to ask for one yourself.”

Gabrielle’s musical laugh sounded again as she leant back in the chair. “My sister warned me about you, you know,” she gasped when she finally gained a bit of control over herself again. “‘Do not believe a word George Weasley says, Elle’, she told me. ‘He is a scoundrel who will try to convince you of anything.’”

His hand clenching on the handle of the beer glass, George smiled. “A scoundrel, am I? Nice to know what my _dear_ sister-in-law really thinks of me.” Adjusting his stance a little, he tried another tack. “Are you really going to listen to what your big sister tells you your entire life?”

This seemed to spark something inside her. Her bright blue eyes twinkled as she unleashed a smile on him that he was convinced would have caused his legs to buckle beneath him if he hadn’t been leaning on the bar. His head swam again when she leant forward.

“I have _never_ listened to my sister.”

Her fingers brushed against his as she grabbed the glass. George watched her throat work as she downed the entire glass in one breath. His skin tingled in anticipation when she slammed the glass down on the bar.

“That was… disgusting,” she declared, licking her lips. “Well, George, thank you for… so kindly introducing me to another Muggle tradition.”

Panic sent George’s heart thudding again as she stood from the stool, gathered her jacket and made to leave his pub. Pushing off the bar, he frowned.

“Oi! You don’t want your half of the trade?”

Gabrielle’s smile was radiant as she turned just at the front door. “You shall have to wait for your kiss, George. Some things are worth listening to your big sister for.”


	2. April Fool's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his birthday, George thinks he has discovered the perfect way to get the kiss he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [hphet](https://hphet.livejournal.com) monthly prompt: April Fool's Day.

“Oh, no!”

“Go on then, Luna!”

George smiled widely as he watched Luna lean over to plant a kiss on Fred’s lips. The room erupted in cheers and applause when Fred reached up to pull her closer. Warmth spread through George’s chest to see his brother so happy after everything he had been through. Not even the walking stick Fred was now stuck with permanently falling to the floor caused them to pause for breath, leading to more cheers from the group of friends and family who had gathered to help celebrate Fred and George’s thirtieth birthday.

“Another ‘Muggle tradition’, I presume?”

A shiver ran down George’s spine at the soft voice just beside him. Glancing over, he offered Gabrielle a half-smile.

“If you touch the plate with the knife while cutting your cake, you have to kiss the nearest person,” he explained. Watching her closely – without trying to appear as though he was – he waited for her reaction. “Yes, it’s a Muggle tradition.”

Gabrielle’s blue eyes were fixed on Fred and Luna on the opposite side of the table, allowing George time to look her over without her knowing. The candlelight flickered off her pale skin and hair, lending her an ethereal quality that caused George’s heart to flutter wildly every time he caught a glimpse of her. His breath stuttered when she turned to meet his eyes.

“This appears to be a very biased tradition.” There was a knowing glint to her eyes that had him shooting her a questioning look. “Luna was clearly seated next to Fred on purpose. And he _clearly_ hit the plate on purpose as well.”

Smiling, George leant forward. “If you were seated next to someone you were attracted to, wouldn’t you want them to hit the plate on purpose?” he murmured to her.

Her responding smile had him licking his lips, almost as though in anticipation.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Alright George, your turn!”

The shout startled George out of the trance Gabrielle’s words seemed to have cast over him. Jerking back from her, he could feel his cheeks heating. His fingers trembled a little as a knife was pressed into his hand. Shaking his head, he offered up what he hoped was a relatively normal-looking smile.

“Right. Cake.”

His heart hammered against his ribcage as he sliced into the cake. He was fully intending to ‘accidentally’ touch the plate – lightly, of course – and had made certain to seat himself right next to Gabrielle for that purpose. Since she had denied him the kiss he had offered in ‘trade’ on St. Patrick’s Day, he had determined that he would get it, one way or another. Even if that was the only thing he ever got from her, it would be worth it. Concentrating hard, he leant over to try to judge just where the knife tip was in the cake.

“Careful, Georgie!”

A hand slapped down hard onto his shoulder, causing the knife to hit the plate with a _clack_. The table erupted in laughter as George’s mouth fell open. Spinning in his seat, he threw a furious look to Oliver Wood, who was standing behind him with a wide grin on his face.

“Oliv–”

He was interrupted by Oliver’s lips hitting his cheek in a sloppy kiss. George spluttered, shoving him backwards.

“Oliver!” George was out of the chair and advancing on Oliver in seconds. “What the fuck?”

The grin hadn’t left Oliver’s face. Leaning forward, his eyes flashed with amusement.

“We all know what you’re up to with Gab, Georgie,” he whispered. “Be careful there.”

George shook his head as Oliver wandered back over to where Marcus was leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his troll-ish face. Oliver said something George couldn’t hear, causing Marcus to laugh. Shooting them both a glare, he turned back to the table.

“Such an interesting Muggle tradition, George,” Gabrielle murmured when he had seated himself again.

Rubbing at Oliver’s drool on his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt, George sighed. It felt as though he was going to have stubble rash. Staring sullenly down at the smushed cake before him, he frowned.

“That’s not how it usually goes.”

“No, I didn’t think so.” Gabrielle reached over in front of him to drag a finger through the icing of the ruined cake. “So, I should not thank you for demonstrating the results?”

George watched as she sucked on the tip of her finger, the knowing glint returning to her eyes. He shook his head.

“At this point, never having to kiss Oliver again will be thanks enough.”

Gabrielle’s laugh caused George to feel light all over. Leaning back, he allowed her to take the cake from in front of him and begin to slice up what was left of it to distribute to everyone else. Watching her, he declared to himself that he would definitely get that kiss. Eventually.


	3. 250 Words

The next time George managed to get some time alone with Gabrielle wasn’t for a few weeks.

“This is a _wonderful_ Muggle tradition, George.”

Warmth spread through George’s chest as he watched Gabrielle’s eyes sparkling with joy. He knew by now that she had never really bothered using her Veela powers on him, so the sensations flowing through him must be true, he figured. He smiled when she turned to face him.

“Garland Day, did you call it?”

“I did.” 

He had failed to mention that Garland Day was actually _not_ celebrated in most parts of England anymore. The opportunity to see Gabrielle adorned with a garland he had made for her was too tempting to pass up. Reaching up, he adjusted the flowers settled on her head.

“It suits you.”

He was unable to help the touch of warmth to his voice. Gabrielle stood still as he played with the flowers, watching him closely.

“George?”

It was an effort to remove his hand from her hair. “Yeah?”

“I notice _I_ am the only one wearing a garland.”

Well. She had him there. Thinking fast, he grinned down at her.

“Wouldn’t that make you the courageous one who re-started the tradition in London? We could have you to thank for reviving it in a few years.”

His stomach flipped when she leant in close to him, smiling.

“Scoundrel.”

He grinned again before setting off down the street. He was beginning to think that the word wasn’t actually all that bad.


End file.
